


Castiel Watches Supernatural

by undersail2013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undersail2013/pseuds/undersail2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hallucifer hands over the reins, but the torment doesn't stop there</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castiel Watches Supernatural

“Don’t think for a moment that I’ve forgotten about your little ‘assbutt’ stunt, Castiel,” Lucifer whispered, pressing a remote into his baby brother’s hand. “But I forgive you, because that’s what brothers do.”

“Um, thank you, Lucifer. That means a lot.”

Luci smiled. “I’m going to leave you to your own thoughts now, little one. But I’ve left you a present,” gesturing to a large television screen suddenly appearing on the wall opposite the bed. “I wouldn’t want you to be lonely here, all by yourself, while your friends are all out gallivanting with the Leviathans. And who knows, maybe they’ll all die, and you’ll be stuck here without them forever. Well, it’ll feel like forever.” A chuckle broke from him then, but he rallied and continued somberly. “But I digress. Enjoy your gift, Castiel.” 

He listened to the silence for several moments before deciding to believe that Hallucifer had truly left. Then he got grumpy. “I was once a seraph,” he muttered. “I was once a god. And still they call me ‘little one.’ Just once I would like to remind the archangels that I outrank- Oh.” Castiel happened to glance at the television. Dean. Why was Dean on the television, looking so young, so unformed? It was strange to see him out of his year. And Sam, also so oddly out-of-time. So tiny. It took Castiel a minute or two to fully process what he was seeing. Then it hit him.

“No.” It was barely a whisper. He looked down at the remote in his hand and jabbed the power button with his thumb. Nothing. Mary was bursting into flames. “LUCIFER!”

The scene shifted. Sam, looking more like himself, in a bar with his friends. Castiel smiled involuntarily- Sam with friends. And that was Jess, the girl he loved. 

Dean again. Castiel sighed to see so much life in his friend, though he noted that he was still unformed, not yet the Righteous Man who would begin the apocalypse. 

Castiel knew the Winchester’s history, of course, but most of it was second- or third-hand information: field reports, scouting missions, standard recon. Most of the intel regarded Dean’s crossroads deal and the year leading up to his descent to Hell. Castiel himself had checked in on the family once or twice, but only as a formality; as captain, he had weightier concerns than the petty Earth-bound dalliances of a damned soul. Even if it was, as he had admitted even then, a particularly beautiful soul. 

This, though: this naked, unvarnished truth was something else entirely. This was the story of Dean and Sam and their every hunt since Dean dragged Sam back into the Impala to resume the life, their life, a life on the road. Castiel tried to look away. He shouldn’t be seeing this; it was too private. He tried shutting his eyes. He tried burying his head in the pillow. And still his eyes found the screen, still every word drifted calmly through his mind, unbidden and fearsome.

This was not real, he told himself. This was a trick, Lucifer pulling thoughts from Sam. No, Lucifer was never really in Sam’s head after Cas broke the wall, any more than Lucifer was ever in Castiel’s after the Hell-memory transfer. This was all Castiel, inadvertently pulling thoughts from Sam. This was penance disguised as salvation. He had simply allowed Hallucifer to arrange the conditions.

Sometimes it truly felt like a punishment. Dean believing that he was a failure: “I guess that’s what I do. I let down the people I love.” The fresh hell of watching Dean make that deal. Seeing his friends in danger, in pain. Dying. Seeing the sadness, the guilt, the agony of every new horror screaming behind their eyes. The demons, vampires, ghosts were bad enough, and then there were the angels. Seeing how his brethren treated the Winchesters made Castiel seethe. And around hour 75 of the torment, seeing his own abominable actions reflected back at him. Mocking his good intentions, calling him to attend his gross errors in judgment, his willful neglect- no, worse- of the boys who needed him. Not only was he not present that year, he was actively fighting against the Winchesters, misdirecting them at best, sending them into harm’s way- into his way- at worst. 

But there were also moments of comfort. Of brotherly love (and sometimes more; thanks be unto Heaven for telepathic conversations and for Sam never knowing more than he let on). Of mirth. Castiel had suffered his fair share from Gabriel’s wicked sense of humor, but even he found himself laughing at his first appearance in the Winchester’s history and marveling at how deftly he manipulated the boys into a full-scale prank war. Yes, this bizarre forced viewing was painful, and Castiel fervently hoped that he would not be doomed to spend eternity watching- and eventually re-watching- the lives and deaths of his favorite humans, but as long as there were moments of joy, moments that made him laugh, moments that made his vision swim with happy tears, Castiel could cope. 

He was still coping with the emotions of that horrible tete-a-tete-a-tete with Dean and Meg, when he heard a piercing PING.


End file.
